Stand of timber just west of my parents by my buddy Jim’s
I grew up with it.
My parents still heat their farmhouse with wood, and dad is 84.
I love wood heat.
I love everything that goes along with heating with wood, the smell of wood chips and chainsaw oil. Working up a good sweat. The satisfaction of a nicely stacked pile of wood. The sense of security, knowing you have enough wood laid up, for the whole winter…come what may…. and the smell of a hickory fire on a cold fall morning….
I just got back in the house this morning after a brisk one mile walk to the corner…it’s up hill the last 1/2 of the route…. I found myself thinking about that timber just west of my buddy Jim’s and the day he and I cut wood. We had just a few weeks until the bulldozers showed up to push all the trees into a pile then burn them.
Oak, hickory, live trees, dead trees, 20 acres of mature timber.
Land prices had sky rocketed and suddenly this “worthless” timber, was now worth $500 an acre per year…for corn ground that is.
As Jim and I walked the ground that Saturday morning, trying to decide which trees would be the easiest to get to, I came across a downed bee tree. Wild honeybees were going in and out of the cracks of this massive old oak. Jim and I decided to leave well enough along. There were enough other trees to cut up, we didn’t need to be stirring up a bee hive….literally 😉
Well, that was three years ago. Since then, the bottom dropped out of the corn market. Land is no longer worth $500 an acre to rent….
and that beautiful stand of timber,
it is no longer, except in my memory.
Makes me wonder if those wild honey bees survived.